


Take a Sharp Right at the Bottom of the Bottle

by FestiveFerret



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Hope, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: “I’m off the team, right? Just say it. Please.”





	Take a Sharp Right at the Bottom of the Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely ashes0909 for a speedy beta (and a slow burn love affair xxooxx).

Tony knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. If it had come out of the blue, he’d at least be able to summon some self-righteous anger, but as it was, all he could do was wait for the inevitable. 

He spun the bottle on his desk, watching the liquid inside slosh up the sides. He picked at the glue that had held the label on with one fingernail, riveted as he watched it flake onto the glass desktop. 

It was possible that the others knew, or had known before, Tony didn’t know or care. All that mattered was that Steve knew now. Tony had watched Steve put the puzzle pieces together, seen each little moment, little clue, pile up until it had clicked together and now… well, after today, the result was inevitable.

That meeting two months ago - that was probably where he’d first noticed. Tony’s hands had been shaking as he’d handed Steve a pen, and Steve’s eyebrows had creased in the middle, watching. Then the time Steve had woken up early for a run and Tony had still been up. The briefing he hadn’t been able to remember. The broken glass…

The door to the workshop slid open, and Tony braced himself. He thought he at least had until tomorrow morning, but those were definitely Steve’s boots thumping across the floor.

“Wait,” Tony said, waving a hand behind him. “I’m drunk.”

He felt more than heard the sigh, but instead of leaving, Steve’s footsteps came up close behind his chair. “You okay?” Steve asked, and fuck, if that wasn’t a loaded question.

Tony didn’t answer, he just scratched his fingernail over the streak of paper-covered glue again.

“Why do you always peel off the labels?” There was a thud, and a chair appeared beside Tony, then Steve appeared in the chair.

“I don’t know. Old habit. I guess, I thought people wouldn't know it was alcohol if it had no label.”

“How do you know what’s in them?” Steve asked.

Tony paused, something hot and angry threatening to volcano up his throat. “I’m a fucking drunk, Steve. I don’t give a shit what’s in them.” Steve stayed quiet, and the lava subsided back down into despair. “I’m off the team, right? Just say it. Please.”

“Of course you’re off the team,” Steve replied, but it wasn’t angry, or accusatory, or even pained. It was soft, as if the words were supposed to be a comfort. “God, Tony. I can’t -” And there was the pain. 

A noise broke free from Tony’s throat, and he hoped it sounded more like a groan than a sob. “Yeah… yeah, good. Okay. I mean, you guys can all stay here. I’ll - maybe I should move back to Malibu. Or… something. I can set up a fund. You won’t have to… worry about anything. I’m not going to -” Tony coughed around the lump in his throat “- take all the cool tech in the divorce or anything.”

“What? You can’t leave.”

Tony looked up at that, seeing Steve’s face for the first time. Steve’s brow was creased, his eyes pained and his mouth twisted unpleasantly. Tony wobbled a little in his chair, fingers gripped tight on the edge of the desk to keep from doing a faceplant into Steve’s chest. “What?”

“Tony, I’m taking you out of the field, but you’re not actually off-off the team. I’m just benching you until we can sort this out. I - please don’t leave.”

Tony stared, trying to sort Steve’s words into something that made sense. “I don’t get it.”

Steve reached out a hand and closed it around Tony’s wrist. “Tony, you’re sick. We’re going to help you get better. Nobody wants you to leave.”

“I could have killed someone.”

“You almost killed yourself. I’m not saying this isn’t horrible and terrifying, but I’m not going to abandon you to face this on your own. Why in God’s name would I do that? How would that help?”

“Help…” Tony shook Steve’s fingers off his wrist, lifted the bottle and took another long pull. When he set it down he started picking at the glue again. “Was it the meeting?”

“Was what -?”

“When you first noticed. My hands were shaking at that meeting.”

“Oh.” Steve leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Yeah. I mean, I didn't know what it was, but I was worried about you. Then there was that assemble you didn’t show up for. And that time I caught you at 4am surrounded by bottles with no labels. Then you snapped at Clint for no reason, got in a massive fight…”

“Fuck, I don’t even remember that.”

“It was stupid, it was over nothing.”

Tony shrugged. “I believe you.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “Why did you come down here and start drinking tonight?” Steve asked.

“I thought you’d leave it til tomorrow.” Even Tony could tell his words were slurring. “And so… this is what I do.”

“Does it make you feel better?”

“Yes. No. Kind of. It makes me… not feel.” But that wasn’t true either because he could feel this.

“I’ve never seen you crash before,” Steve said softly, and Tony’s heart clenched in his chest.

“I - Sorry.”

He could see Steve shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t need an apology, Tony. I should be apologizing to you. I should have seen this sooner, realized how serious this was. How have you been piloting the suit for so long without - how often were you drunk on missions?”

Tony opened his mouth then closed it again. “I honestly don’t know. JARVIS can tell you. Probably.”

“No, you know what, nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Steve’s arms uncrossed and folded over the table instead, he tipped his chin towards Tony, peering at his face. “You’re hurt.”

“SHIELD medical already patched me up.”

“I thought you were dead. When you went down that hard, I thought you were dead.”

Tony shifted in his chair then bit his lip when his head spun. This was drinking on top of drinking. His blood had probably been mostly alcohol since last night. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation now.” He could hear he was slurring, but he didn’t bother trying to get his tongue under control this time. “I’m drunk.”

“We can have it again tomorrow.” Steve’s eyes were still flicking over the bruises and cuts on Tony’s face.

“I lost control,” Tony admitted. “That’s never happened before, not that badly. JARVIS can counteract for some of my - for when I make mistakes, but after last night… I started and I didn’t stop, and I shouldn’t have come out for the Assemble today, but I did and… yeah. I’ve never lost control like that before.”

Steve was quiet for a while. Tony could hear him breathing, soft and even and slow. “Why did you start drinking last night?”

Tony shrugged. “Do I need a reason?”

“No. But I think you have one.”

Tony’s hand automatically twitched towards his cell phone. The phone call… “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

The room fell silent again. Tony found himself matching the pace of Steve’s breathing unconsciously. “Pepper’s engaged.”

“Her and Happy?” Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah. She called me last night.”

“Oh.” Steve twitched, as if he wanted to move, but then he stopped. “It hurts?”

Tony rolled the word “hurt” around in his mind for a while. “Not because of what you might think. Not that I’m still in love with her. I mean - I do love her, I always will. But… sometimes it felt like she was my last chance, you know? And I fucked it up. And… maybe I won’t get another chance. I’m happy for her too. But this is just, you know, the last nail in the coffin, or something.” Tony stumbled over his words, trying to put his thoughts into sense, but they sloshed around in his pickled brain and refused to organize.

“I get it.” Apparently, it had made sense to Steve.

Tony picked up the bottle and took another drink. He set it down then looked at Steve challengingly. “Aren’t you going to take it away?”

Steve stared at Tony for a long time, then turned to look at the half-empty bottle. “I think that ship has sailed already tonight, Tony. No. I’m going to help you finish this -” Steve lifted the bottle to his lips and knocked back an entire quarter of the remaining alcohol without a breath. Tony swallowed, eyes going wide. “- then I’m going to take you upstairs and put you to bed. And I’m going to be there, tomorrow, when you wake up. And we’re going to talk - with you sober - and we’re going to make a plan.” Steve set the bottle back down then poked it sharply with a finger. “This is going to be hard.” He leaned in, waiting until Tony met his eye. “But I’m not going to give up on you. And I’m not going to let this -” He poked the bottle again “- take you from me, got it?”

Tony nodded, slowly so the room didn’t spin too much. He’d had a lot of last hurrah’s, but this one felt different. He wasn’t sure if that meant it would stick. It just felt… different. “Okay.” Tony held his breath for a long moment, then let it out again. Steve was still leaning in close. “I’m going to fuck up and disappoint you.”

Steve’s fingers found Tony’s wrist again, wrapping around then sliding up under the cuff of his sleeve to hold his forearm snugly. “You might fuck up. But you could never disappoint me. I love you too much for that.”

Tony’s eyes startled wide at that. He didn’t know how Steve meant it - if it was as friends, or teammates, or a confession of romantic interest. He could ask, he knew, and Steve would tell him, but right now, like this, he didn’t want to know. He just melted into the knowledge that Steve loved him, in whatever way that he did, and left it there. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Put a BAC lock on all the suits.” He paused, swallowed. “If I’m not legal to drive, I’m not safe to fly. No excuses. Only -” He took another steady breath, and Steve’s fingers tightened around his arm. They were warm. “Only Steve can override.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He caught Steve’s eye, then flicked his gaze away, overwhelmed by the warmth and depth of affection he saw there. Steve rubbed his palm up and down Tony’s forearm. His skin was rough - probably from flinging around his metal frisbee all the time - but the callouses were nice to feel catching as they brushed over Tony’s skin. They were real, grounding - very Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Tony took another deep breath, and it shook and rattled its way back out of his lungs. There was a sharp sting at the corners of his eyes, but he tamped it down. He was tired. Bed suddenly seemed very appealing, even though he knew sleeping meant tomorrow would come all the sooner. And tomorrow was going to hurt. But Steve would be there. He shoved the bottle towards Steve. “We’d better hurry up and finish this, then. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

Steve smiled softly and picked up the bottle. He knocked it back, leaving just enough for a double shot sloshing in the bottom. He held it out, and Tony took it. He met Steve’s eyes, nodded once, then wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and tipped it up. He could barely feel the burn anymore, but it was there, bringing the full-body flush of warmth after. He set the bottle back on the table and licked his lips, sweeping up the last few drops.

“Okay,” he said. He held out his hand, and beside him, Steve rose to his feet, then reached out and took it.


End file.
